Marquis Burndy was a man in his late forties. Many years had passed since his time on the front lines, but he still possessed a respectable dignity and impressive bearing, which was in no way overshadowed by the magnificent attire of Fiarca’s crown prince disguise. If anything, the marquis was the more intimidating figure by far.
“I apologize for the late introduction, Sir Talion,” he said in a deep voice. “The house of Burndy extends its warmest welcomes to a hero of your caliber. I do hope my daughter has been treating you kindly.”
The man’s stern look failed to betray the presence or absence of a threat veiled within his pointed words. Pernille simply stared at the floor and said nothing. Ras returned a simple and inoffensive reply.
“What a splendid feast you’ve prepared for His Highness, Lord Burndy. You honor me with your gracious invitation.”
Despite being the son of Count Veredica, Ras had never had reason to meet the marquis before. He was a little surprised that Frédérique Burndy had decided to speak to him, and even more surprised by the man’s next words.
“Lift your head, Sir Talion. A Guardian of Silver should not debase himself before a mere marquis.”
“You jest, my lord. I am nothing more than the emperor’s lapdog, a humble mercenary promoted far beyond his station.”
“Beyond your station, you say? Prince Auriol appears to think otherwise. His Highness speaks very highly of you, isn’t that right?”
“Quite right,” answered Fiarca. “I believe that Ras’s achievements speak for themselves. There is no doubt in my mind that he possesses the courage to face what is required of him.”
“Speaking of achievements,” the marquis went on, “I recently heard word that a man going by your name, Sir Talion, slew an aquatic dragon within the borders of the Kingdom of Charlgia. There wouldn’t happen to be two of you running around, would there? If the rumors are to be believed, you saved the life of Princess Tishna Lumedienne Charlgiana.”
Frédérique’s words sent ripples of “Did you hear that?!” and “A real dragon?!” through the crowd. The northern march saw much trade with the nearby kingdom, and so it was expected that the marquis would have sent his spies there. Even so, the news had traveled astonishingly fast. Both Argyll and Charlgia had been keeping the fact that Ras had met with Tishna a highly classified secret. Lord Burndy shouldn’t have had easy access to that information.
“You’re well informed, as always,” said Fiarca. Frédérique raised an eyebrow.
“So it’s true, then?”
“Yes. Because of that beast, Ras was discovered and sent back to us.”
“Your Highness, I don’t think…”
Kanalayka leaned over and tried to stop Fiarca from giving away too much. Anyone at the party might overhear and learn about Ras’s infiltration. However, Fiarca didn’t seem worried.
“It’s okay, Kanalayka,” she said. “The marquis is our trusted ally. There is no need to keep secrets from him.”
“In that case,” said Frédérique, frowning, “might you elucidate to me as to why a Guardian of Silver was tasked with infiltrating a foreign kingdom in the first place?”
“Because we have reason to believe that a party of assassins operating out of our own country seeks to harm Princess Tishna,” Fiarca replied.
“Is that because of your planned marriage arrangements?”
“Many of our advisers think so.”
As Frédérique let another state secret slip, Fiarca said nothing in reproach. The engagement between Argyll and Charlgia was well known around the court by that point. Most of the nobles attending this party were surely aware of it.
Suddenly, one of the people surrounding Marquis Burndy stepped forward and, taking a rather familiar tone, said, “That’s quite the troubling news, Father. Our house would not escape suspicion if such a thing were to happen.”
The man was a slightly foppish aristocrat with the same ash-colored hair as his father. This was Valdemar Grey Burndy, the marquis’s second son. The young man possessed territory known as the Grey domain, situated in the northern march, and was also a deputy commander in the northern border guard, which made him an aura knight of some repute.
He was also an old acquaintance to both Ras and Fiarca, as he was an upperclassman at the military academy they both had attended.
“Watch your tongue, Val,” cautioned Frédérique. But his son only responded with a carefree shake of his head.
“It’s only natural. Our house is not without motive to want the princess dead. After all, with her gone, Pell can marry Prince Auriol, just as she always planned.”
“Brother!”
Pernille had jumped at the sound of her name and glared sharply at Valdemar. It was clear from the way he’d spoken that Valdemar’s words were more than a simple jest. If Tishna hadn’t come into the picture, Pernille would still be a candidate for Auriol’s marriage. She was therefore one person who stood to benefit from this assassination if it went ahead.
“Calm down, Pell. I’m just saying that the empire’s gossips will surely spin these kinds of rumors, should we do nothing.”
Valdemar gave his incensed sister a teasing smile. Frédérique, meanwhile, turned a cold gaze upon his son.
“Then what is your suggestion, Val?”
“What if we put a stop to those rumors before they begin? Our house invites suspicion only because Pell is eligible to be married. If she finds a suitable match, our motive for murder vanishes without a trace.”
Valdemar scanned the faces of everyone present, scrutinizing their individual reactions. Slowly, they each became looks of understanding.
“But who should she wed?” asked Frédérique. “Did you have anyone in mind?”
As if anticipating that precise question, Valdemar turned to Ras. “Why, I think you’ll find the perfect candidate is standing right in our midst. Wouldn’t you agree, Sir Talion?”
As all eyes fell on him, Ras almost choked on his wine.
“The son of Count Veredica is a worthy groom. And he’s fairly handsome, to boot. Who else can boast they married a dragonslayer? Quite a lucrative betrothal for our house, wouldn’t you say?”
A conniving smile spread across Valdemar’s face. Ras had to stop him before things got out of hand.
“Hold on,” he said. “Have you forgotten? I’ve brought shame to my name with the two years I spent in the whorehouses. There isn’t a chance Pernille would want to sully her reputation with a man like me.”
“Would these ‘whorehouses’ happen to include the establishment of the Black Blade?” asked Frédérique in an imposing tone. Ras turned to the man in shock.
“How do you know that?” he asked.
“I was working as an imperial guard when Fon Cigel slew the Sand Dragon in the deserts of Lagyllia, and as a result, I was there for the battle. I know what reward she asked of the emperor, and I also know the true purpose of the women she trains there.”
The marquis’s eyes bored into Ras’s skull. He and the emperor were around the same age, and so it wasn’t surprising to learn that the two of them had stood together on the same battlefield twenty-seven years prior. It made for ample opportunity to learn of the Black Blade’s secret.
“Besides,” added Valdemar with a sly smirk, “it’s not strange for an unwed mercenary to relieve his tensions at the pleasure-houses from time to time. That’s a far sight better than some nobles I could mention, with a mistress for every day of the week! Oh, not to insinuate that I’m in either camp, you understand.”
Before he knew it, Ras felt that the atmosphere had shifted somewhat into a blessing upon his and Pernille’s union, quite against his own will. The most surprising thing of all, though, was that even Pernille herself appeared to be giving serious thought to her brother’s suggestion.
Finally, Fiarca, who had not said a word throughout, spoke up.
“Indeed, Ras would make a splendid spouse,” she said. “But you would need to seek the emperor’s blessing for a marriage among the Council.”
“On that front,” said Valdemar, “I wonder if we might persuade Prince Auriol to put in a good word on our behalf?”
Though he turned to face Fiarca, Valdemar spoke to his father. Given his low status, it was not allowed for him to address the crown prince directly.
“I understand your plight, Lord Valdemar Grey, but alas, I cannot grant that request.”
The black mask on Fiarca’s face altered her voice to match that of her late brother. Valdemar bowed deeply in deference, then spoke again.
“I wonder if we might hear the reason for that?”
“I’m afraid,” said Fiarca, “that I cannot grant Ras’s hand to Pernille without upsetting my ever-loyal legate here.”
With that, she shot Kanalayka a meaningful glance.
“Y-Your Highness, y-you misunderstand… I—I harbor no such…”
Suddenly the center of attention, Kanalayka was reduced to a stammering mess.
Of course, Fiarca was under no misconceptions when it came to the imperial guardswoman’s feelings for Ras. Even if there was something there, it wasn’t strong enough to be called love. Yet for the purposes of extricating Ras from his present predicament, that meager affection made for the perfect excuse.
Ras couldn’t help but narrow his eyes at the princess’s characteristic mischief.
“On that note,” said Fiarca, “how about a little light entertainment, Lord Burndy?”
“Entertainment, you say?”
“Why don’t we settle who earns Ras’s hand with swords? Since Pernille cannot fight, I suggest Lord Grey duels in her stead. There’s no need to spill blood, of course.”
Frédérique was stunned speechless by Fiarca’s abrupt suggestion. No doubt, in his mind, he was speedily weighing up the potential gains and losses of such a match. As the crown prince’s host, however, he didn’t have the liberty of refusing a request from Auriol himself. Plus, winning the duel would free his house of motive to assassinate Princess Tishna, and the fight itself would liven up the party. It was a hard proposition to turn down.
“If your son wins,” said Fiarca, “I will ask His Majesty to allow Pernille and Ras to be married. Should Kanalayka be victorious, however, then I would like to ask a favor of Lord Grey. Is that acceptable?”
“Hmm. What say you, Val?”
Frédérique turned to his son. The major risk of this battle was for Valdemar to suffer an embarrassing defeat. He was the deputy commander of the marquis’s border force, and so if he didn’t at least put up a good show against the imperial legate, people would start to doubt the Burndy house’s capability to defend the empire from invasion.
Valdemar adopted a confident grin.
“I accept,” he said. “Lady Kanalayka shall make for a worthy opponent, and our guests tonight shall have an exciting tale to tell their families when they return home.”
And so, a new item was hastily added to the night’s program: a duel between Lady Kanalayka and Lord Valdemar Grey.